Velkharion strides into the stone-floored council chamber with eyes alight and excitement palpable in every measured step. The vast hall of the Eternal Dominion, normally so silent and resolute, now buzzes with quiet tension as his generals, clad in their ornate armor and adorned with insignias of their respective divisions, murmured among themselves. At the center, atop his magnificent Frostfire Throne, Velkharion rises, his voice firm yet impassioned.
"Isaril," he declares, turning toward his trusted aide, "I have decided. I will venture out from our Dominion under cover. I shall join the Adventurer's Guild in E-Naeul to gather deeper intelligence about this world. I must walk among the common folk under a new identity—a fallen noble reborn as an adventurer."
Before his words can fade, the chamber fills with a chorus of cautious objections. Kroxar, his deep voice resonating from the Guard Division, is the first to speak.
"My lord, please reconsider! It is beneath your stature and far too dangerous to assume such a lowly role. Our Scouting Division can perform this task for you."
Sythera of the Tactical Division echoes the sentiment, tapping her gauntleted hand against a carved pillar. "Indeed, Lord. Your might should not be squandered in disguise; let our operatives risk their lives instead."
Zelefar from the R&D Division adds with cool calculation, "Your brilliance should be reserved for matters of state, not mingling with common adventurers. The risks far outweigh any potential knowledge you might gain on the ground."
Even Valnor, with his solemn dignity as the Treasury Division's guardian, offers a muted protest, "My lord, your safety is paramount. If you embark on such a mission, your absence could weaken our defenses."
A brief murmur of dissonance fills the chamber, but all eyes fall to Isaril. For a heartbeat, she fixes her gaze on Velkharion with an expression as steady as tempered steel. Then, with a graceful yet commanding gesture, her presence silences the assembled generals.
Velkharion holds their attention with a measured nod. "I value your concern, and I am deeply touched by your loyalty. But I have made my decision. Experiencing this world firsthand will be vital to our future plans. I must see its truth with my own eyes so that I may shape our course wisely."
He steps down from the dais and continues, "That is why I decree small teams be sent forth. I order our Scouting Division to infiltrate the nations and gather every scrap of intelligence—any tie or hint of remnants from Yggdrasil or of former allies from my past. Should you encounter anyone who was once my friend in that world, notify me immediately. Their identity is too precious to be lost."
A chorus of disciplined nods follows as each general responds in unison, "Yes, my Lord."
Then, unexpectedly, a voice rings out from the far left of the chamber—a voice filled with determination. "If you are leaving, then I shall come too!" The room falls into a hushed silence as every head turns toward the heavy double doors standing open at the entrance of the King's Office.
In that moment, all the generals lower their heads in silent deference as a solitary figure steps forward. With a soft murmur and a gesture of unwavering loyalty, they address her collectively, "Her Majesty."
Velkharion's heart skips a beat. He stares in amazement and a tinge of emotion as he manages to stutter, "Sh-Shu—Shuna?"
There, bathed in the gentle luminescence of enchanted light, stands Shuna. She is every inch the idealized partner Velkharion once envisioned—graceful, determined, and possessing a quiet strength that belies her delicate features. Modeled meticulously after the revered Shuna of legend and bearing the regal attire of the Dominion's Head Mage and Librarian, she was fashioned to be not only his confidante but, ultimately, his queen.
In a clear, calm tone, Shuna replies, "My lord, I will accompany you. I will not let you walk this path alone."
For a moment, the tension breaks as the generals exchange glances—half-amusement, half-respect—and a gentle warmth spreads through the chamber. Velkharion meets Shuna's steady gaze and softens. "It may be dangerous for Her Majesty to follow me into every peril," he concedes, though his eyes glimmer with mischief. "And yet, I had long planned it so that you by my side would make our journey all the more certain."
Shuna arches an eyebrow delicately. "Are you seriously thinking of venturing out without me?" she teases lightly. "I fear that, without my guidance, you may attract a few unwanted concubines to your side in your endless quest for glory."
A ripple of quiet laughter stirs among the assembled generals, though none speak. Velkharion smiles with affectionate reproach. "Very well, then," he says, his voice softening as he steps toward Shuna. "You shall remain here, steadying the helm of our operations, while I set forth as Hans von Eisenhart—my new disguise. But mark my words, your vigilance shall not waver, for our Dominion's prosperity depends on it."
After a brief quarrel filled with gentle banter and mutual teasing, Velkharion draws Shuna into a tender embrace, pressing a firm yet gentle kiss to her temple in an unspoken promise of reunion. Their moment is brief, a private interlude before the duties of leadership reclaim their gravity.
Later that evening, the scene shifts to the Dominion's armory. The room is filled with the low hum of enchantments and the soft clatter of meticulously maintained equipment. Several maids and attendants move gracefully between racks of armor and weaponry, preparing the transformative tools that will cloak Velkharion in the appearance of a humble adventurer.
As one of the maids presents him with a neatly inscribed parchment, Velkharion accepts it with solemn satisfaction. The parchment reads:
"Hans von Eisenhart – A fallen noble who travels with his wife, Shuna, in hopes of rising again to glory."
A wry smile tugs at his lips. "This shall suffice," he murmurs. He dons a set of inexpensive, samurai-inspired armor—a suit of dark, minimalist design that mutes his inherent aura of power. With a self-made transformation item activated, his true form is masked, and he appears to be an unexceptional human adventurer. Shuna, too, adopts a similar guise, though her innate regality remains ever-present.
In the quiet moments that follow, Velkharion practices a few small spells. These are not for battle but serve to both calm his anticipation and test the currents of the new magic that permeates this world. He hums quietly as he contemplates the possibility of creating entirely new spells—perhaps even spells granting passage to other realms.
At last, a scout's voice crackles from a nearby console. "My Lord, a promising location for teleportation has been identified near the eastern fringes. The terrain appears ideal for further reconnaissance."
Velkharion's eyes narrow with excitement. "Excellent," he intones, his voice resonant with purpose. "Prepare the teleportation gate. I leave immediately."
With orders dispatched, the Dominion's defenders and operatives move to secure their tasks. Velkharion steps toward the shimmering portal, the threshold to his new life as Hans von Eisenhart. Each step he takes away from the familiar sanctuary of the Eternal Dominion is weighted with calculated ambition and the secret knowledge of worlds past—knowledge gleaned from every tale of Overlord, every page of the sacred lore that I have absorbed over countless lifetimes.
Thus, the mantle of leadership and subterfuge is passed to those remaining behind, while I, the true architect of destiny, vanish into the ether of magic and purpose. The new disguise awaits, and with it, endless possibilities lie on the horizon of this unfamiliar world—a world that I intend to shape in my own image.
The portal shimmers, and with one final look back at the resolute face of the Dominion, Hans von Eisenhart—my new guise—steps through, beginning a journey of intrigue, adventure, and meticulous conquest.
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